


Pass Or Fail

by GalacticGoat



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: ...just to be safe, Addiction, Alternate Universe, Guns, Incest Mention, M/M, Magic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Vomiting, autocannibalism, hah wow i honestly don't know what to tag here, i guess that means this is tamer than usual, it's a fleeting line but be careful please, oh wow things are starting to not be tame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticGoat/pseuds/GalacticGoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hide is dressed like he’s going to a funeral, and he hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hide is dressed like he’s going to a funeral, and he hates it.

The black dress shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, plastered by sweat. The equally dark, pinstriped pants remind him of something he’d find while looting a business man’s wardrobe. The only ounce of free will he’d been able to exercise was through his hair, which he had sloppily pulled into a ponytail, bangs still hovering in his vision and its back still brushing against his neck.

“Following the desired dress code only strengthens your chances,” the instructor had chimed at the students back in the middle of the year, a time that felt like forever ago. Gods, was today really the last day of training? ...Technically, it’s actually a testing day, but that doesn’t mean it’s not related to training. Hide stares at the sidewalk and notices how far away from the ground his view is. He really _had_ gotten old.

Tugging his shirt’s collar to give his neck breathing space for the umpteenth time, his hands go clammy for an entirely different reason as a building looms in front of him. The CCG’s HQ is practically a high-tech fortress straight out of a movie. Dark metal and shimmering, tinted glass stretch upwards like an elaborate pyre, framed by a circlet of clouds.

He’s taking his test here. One trial. Pass or fail.

Hide jitters as he paces through the building’s sliding doors, nervous yet thankful for the welcoming blast of cool air. The lobby’s as intimidating as the rest of the building’s exterior, with stone tiling and a minimalist set up. He lets himself listen to his heels clacking against the stone for a few moments, imagining himself as an important person-- people living the big life always have loud footsteps. His father’s echo throughout entire rooms, even.

The receptionist has been expecting him, a strained, professional smile stretching his mouth too wide.

“You must be here for the test at two,” he greets Hide, who beats down his nerves in order to offer a grin back.

“Yep!” he confirms with a thumbs up.

“You’ll want to take the elevator to the second floor, then go through the door at the end of the hallway to the right,” the receptionist directs Hide. He looks tired from the repetition of his job. The false smile only makes it worse.

Hide gives a quick word of thanks before hustling to the elevator. The journey to the second floor is quiet, with hardly any encounters with workers and visitors. He takes it as an opportunity to recite what he needs to know in his head, a jumbled recap.

‘ _The results are best when you know what characteristics you should focus on at the test’s start_ …’ For him in particular, that entails ‘ _kindness, protectiveness, loneliness, and dominance--_ ’ Hide shudders at the last one. ‘ _Successful encounters will present figures with black and red eyes_ ,’ he recites this sentence word for word, the line in from his textbook as clear as day. ‘ _Once contact with the targeted figure is established, attempting to turn back or refuse proper interaction leads to a coma or death, though the exact cause behind this is unknown_.’ He’s not going to turn back. He darts his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the leather eyepatch. ‘ _Mementos are helpful, too._ ’

The ding of the elevator snaps him from his thoughts.

The room is easy enough to find, with a helpful, hastily-printed sign taped outside the doorway. Hide strolls his way in, giving a wave to the instructors and his classmates that are scattered throughout the room. The entire floor has been supplemented with matting; it‘s probably a combat training room on any other day. Devoid of any tables or chairs, all that’s left are mirrored walls.

Unsure as to what else he can do, Hide settles himself onto a spot on the floor, then whips out the eye patch to place in front of him. He fidgets with his clothes, criss-crosses his legs, and heaves an exaggerated sigh to quell his racing mind. There’s no point in overthinking this test… Right?  

The other students meander around to find their own places. Like Hide, they shuffle through pockets or remove items from boxes. There’s a collection of objects nestled by their respective owners; a bunny keychain, a platter of some sort of finely-cooked meat, and even a hockey mask worthy of a serial killer are all among the number Hide notices as he glances throughout the room.

An older, blonde woman in sharp attire strides to the front of the room by the doorway, focused eyes inspecting each of the students’ mementos.

“If everyone is ready, then we’ll start the test,” she begins, wasting no times on introductions. Hide squints to read her name tag for the sake of future reference… Mado Akira.

“Exactly three minutes from now we will cast the appropriate charm to begin-- anyone who decides to not take the test must leave the room before then. We will be providing the necessary boost for testing to go underway, but each of you must act accordingly to your situation in order to fully pass. Of course, this only applies to those who make initial contact. Speaking of which, I will remind you all that you have signed the appropriate waivers for this test.” A heavy silence hangs over the room.

Mado glances at her watch before taking a step backwards, detaching herself from the daunting atmosphere.

“Prepare yourselves, and remember to utilize your studies.”

The room bursts into motion. Students work on strategically positioning their objects, some curl up on the floor and get comfortable. Others massage their temples to help them focus. One or two even plug their ears to block out the terrified buzzing in the room.

Hide doesn’t have much he can do besides sitting and focusing on the characteristics from earlier. His chosen subject is extremely new in comparison to others’; there’s only bare-boned information about him in textbooks. All he’d find were reports of fleeting interactions, some supposed abilities, and a description of the tragedy that led to his infamy, honestly.

...Something tells Hide that focusing on the tragedy would not put him in his target’s favor.

So characteristics it is.

Mado’s voice rings through the room.

“We start in 10 seconds.”

The instructors circle around the room with their clipboards pressed to their chests, the charm’s incantation slipping off each of their tongues like a countdown. Actually, that’s exactly what it is. Hide feels the familiar build-up of pressure in his ears and smells the nonexistent sulfur in the air. He shuts his eyes and lets his thoughts fade entirely. He’s _so_ ready for this.

“And begin.”

Hide’s eyes flutter back open.

The room is the same as ever.

Disappointment wells in his chest for a moment before he can wrestle it back down. He’s just begun; there’s still time! He just needs to focus.

Kindness. Protectiveness. Loneliness. Dominance.

Hide thinks of his mother’s clattering in the kitchen in the early hours of Saturday mornings, intending to give her family an amazing breakfast to wake up to. He remembers the days he’d come back with bruises all up his arms thanks to his fights with bullies during school-- _someone_ had to protect the shy, outcast students! He reminds himself of the times he’d had to curl up in his bed and listen to a silent house as he drifted to sleep because his family was busy that night. He thinks of shouting matches with his father, and the sheer willpower that radiated from the other’s form as he pinned Hide down with audible daggers.

Hide takes these memories and feelings, then stuffs them into his skull like a glutton. The more memories he piles into his head, the more frantic he gets because nothing’s happening-- something’s not working! Worry is winding its way into his lungs, but he’s too self-controlled to show it, so he glances around the room rapidly instead, praying for something, _anything_ to happen.

And then, something does.

The surroundings and its people drop away in a blur, leaving Hide alone in the dark.

He doesn’t plummet like everyone else. He almost wishes he had.

The blackness is like an endless canvas, spanning with no horizon. His dark clothes make it feel like he’s being eaten away, merely a head and remnants of a body. Hide rubs a comforting hand up and down his arm. There is no chill to give him goosebumps, yet there they are.

“Hello?” he wearily calls, letting his cheery demeanor drop away entirely for a moment.

He gets nothing in return. Not even an echo.

“Anyone there?” he weakly tries again, hoping repetition will do the trick. Loneliness is creeping through his feet, into his bones.

Something white shimmers in the corner of his eye. He whips around, relief coursing through his veins like adrenaline.

The other boy-- man?-- stands stock still, a pale hand clutching the bottom edge of his jacket. His white hair waves in an imaginary breeze. As adept at reading emotions as Hide is, he can scarcely tell what the other is thinking. His eyes are stretched wide in disbelief-- or fear? Shock? His mouth wavers, slightly open as he surveys Hide from the distance.

“I, uh, got the dress code!” Hide exclaims, urging the silence to be shattered. He grasps a loose portion of his shirt and tugs at it as a helpful indicator. “Pretty much all black; like you wanted… I think.” The man doesn’t budge, his own dark clothes nearly hiding his form as effectively as Hide’s. Hide searches for the defining feature of these encounters, knows he’ll find it if he focuses hard enough and… There. Onyx and crimson spar for Hide’s attention, enveloping the entirety of the man’s left eye.

“You’re Kaneki Ken, right?” Hide asks. For the first time, the man moves. He gives a subtle nod.

“Great!” Hide bounds over, only slowing his momentum when the other takes a quiet, weary step backwards. Is Kaneki… scared of him? The notion is almost laughable, considering what he is, versus what Kaneki is. He still makes a note to restrain himself a bit more. He can’t scare off Kaneki, not now. Who knows what would happen to Hide, if he did?

“Nagachika Hideyoshi,” he introduces himself, “but everyone just calls me Hide.” He offers a handshake. Kaneki slowly accepts it.

“How did you find me?” Kaneki questions with a hoarse voice, worried eyes darting between Hide’s face and the darkness beyond. It must have been ages since he’s spoken last.

“I studied so I could meet up with you-- duh!” Hide waves a careless hand, “We were told to pick who we thought we’d work best with, and you seemed like a good match!” ‘ _Opposites attract_!’, he had told himself as he scoured over Kaneki’s information, seeking all the tips necessary to locate him.

“But I thought partnerships with me were banned! Because I… I…” Kaneki chews his lip, struggling to vocalize what had happened.

“It’s been over two decades since that catastrophe, Kaneki,” Hide softly counters. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up over something for that long.”

“But I _can_ ,” Kaneki rasps. He may not look it, but he sure sounds his age. Hide musters up his courage, silently begging that Kaneki won’t attack him as he carefully places a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“No one deserves to be so alone,” Hide says, leaning over to look Kaneki in the eyes. He doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do. Frankly, the training had only prepared him for _finding_ , not actually _interacting_ with their targeted partners. So he’s improvising. Kaneki shakily inhales.

“How do I know that you aren’t trying to use me for something evil?” Hide flinches at the suddenly cold tone.

“I don’t know if this has anything to do with Mr. Amon when you worked together, b-but--” Hide stutters, slinking away from Kaneki as subtly as he can.

“--He didn’t use me. I used him,” Kaneki corrects him in that same dead voice. His shoulders seem broader; his eyes look more manic.

Hide remembers the mentions of Kaneki’s erratic mood, a pendulum swinging between normality and depravity. He had never quite heeded the words, focusing on the man’s apparent caring nature, his quiet, skillful ability to learn and adapt. Now that Hide’s receiving a glimpse of the other side of the coin, he has to remind himself: He can’t run away.

“I’m not going to do anything evil… and I won’t end up like Mr. Amon,” Hide counters, pushing his own shoulders out and tilting his chin upwards, a prideful stance. Like Father taught him. Kaneki’s irregular eyes scan Hide’s figure, expression shifting subtly as they rest on Hide’s face.

“Prove it,” Kaneki fiercely demands, a rumble caught in his throat. “Show me that I won’t devour you.” He surges towards Hide, stepping directly in front of the other’s face. Hide refuses to budge, offering a grin instead.

“How so?” he chirps, trying to counter the aggression with his own brand of cheerfulness. He stares into onyx and pearl, mumbles internally that this is still the nervous man from before-- the cracks in his psyche are just a little busy twisting him up from the inside. Hide will win him over. He has to.  

“Make a contract with me.”

“That’s it?” Hide blinks. That’s what he was planning to do anyways!

“It’s a test of time,” Kaneki elaborates, his tense stance trembling with restrained strength.

“Hell knows you’ve got plenty of it,” Hide jokingly answers, letting out a chuckle. Kaneki takes a step back, apparently satisfied.

“So how do we make this contract?” Hide rubs his hands together-- Kaneki would probably interpret it as eagerness, but it’s really a nervous gesture. Kaneki raises a brow.

“You studied in order to find me, but you still don’t know how to make a contract?” There’s a glimmer of amusement in the question. It still sounds mildly predatory, but Hide will take what he can get.

He shoots Kaneki a sheepish smile. “Eh… No. I thought it varied?” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“It depends on our origins,” Kaneki sagely answers. He carefully reaches a hand out, coming to lightly grasp Hide’s collar… Hide’s eyes flicker to it, but he refuses to look fazed. He takes a light step forward, and leans slightly to look down at Kaneki.

“And what was yours?”

“I was lured in by a particularly dangerous woman and we both got into a nearly fatal accident. Someone took pity and transferred her inhuman heart to me,” Kaneki bluntly explains. “Now, here I am.”

“That sounds terrible! Sheesh! Talk about a bad break!” Hide gasps, ruining the somber moment. Kaneki has been edging closer-- it would’ve been unnoticed if Hide wasn’t Hide. His breathing is silent, and his exhales are neither warm nor cold. It’s like sharing a breathing space with a spirit. Kaneki tugs Hide closer, his lips ghosting by Hide’s.

“Passion and its results unfortunately dragged me into this existence. Now let me show you how to make a contract.”

Kaneki closes the distance, a fierce, starving look in his eyes. Hide’s arms skirt around the other’s frame in confusion from the sudden motion, finally settling behind his neck and through Kaneki’s hair as he lets himself be carried away in the kiss. It’s sloppy and a little disgusting to be honest, but the energy behind it gives Hide a persistent rush of adrenaline. He winces as his nose collides with Kaneki’s, yet he cannot find it in himself to care at all. Kaneki offers an approving growl, somehow shoving himself impossibly closer… and… _and_ …

They slam into the floor of the CCG’s testing room.

Kaneki looks startled, and Hide can only wheeze, noting the awkward straddle Kaneki has Hide stuck in, one arm braced by Hide’s head. He watches Kaneki’s head slowly rotate to observe the instructors frozen in place as well as students, slumped on the floor, rubbing defeated eyes, or conversing with newly arrived partners. Hide watches Kaneki’s breath catch in his chest.

Slowly, Kaneki draws his hand back to cover his face, curling over in mortification. Hide bursts out in laughter.

“Oh, so _now_ you act all shy and modest!” he howls with amusement. He drags Kaneki downwards, gently pushing him over so they can lay side by side. Kaneki continues to hide behind his hand, yet he loosens his rigid pose. Hide offers a consoling pat to Kaneki’s shoulder, still shaking with laughter.

He knows the rest of the room is staring, but it doesn’t really matter-- he’d done it! He’d passed, and he’d gotten a partner out of it! His career is now underway, and with Kaneki’s help, he knows they’re going to be great. Better than great, maybe. He ought to think of a team name, just for the hell of it.

One of the instructors pads to stand by Hide’s open side, sliding glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she looks down at the sprawled-out duo. Hide’s face feels like it’s going to split from grinning so widely, and he can’t help but stretch over to ruffle Kaneki’s hair as a subtle form of thanks. He already knows what she’s going to say.

 

“Congratulations, Nagachika Hideyoshi. You’ve successfully made a contract with a god. Your job as a CCG investigator starts today.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, just some clarifying points because i never know how well my writing translates what i mean and also there are some things that simply couldn't be included:
> 
> -this is an AU where the ghouls are gods.  
> -CCG (commission of counter gangs) has its investigators team up with these gods in order to solve gang-related cases... it's not a requirement to have a partnership with a god, but if you fail the test you go in for additional training because you'll need to cover your back extra thoroughly without a partner.  
> -summoning a god is a CCG EXCLUSIVE PRIVILEGE in terms of legality. magic is known but barely understood by the public, but government agencies have got a lot more research backing and info that lets them do this kind of stuff. of course, there are plenty of reckless civilians willing to try and get similar results to the CCG's... and that... usually... ends... badly.
> 
> there are bunch of other things but eh i'm tired and it's 2am so i'll leave it to your imagination.
> 
> anyways this is a blurb of stress writing! my life's been chaotic so i wanted to get some stress relief and this is what i had the energy to do. i should also mention that my other tg fic, Terrified of One Another, has not been forgotten... i just haven't felt much of an urge to keep writing it recently! hopefully inspiration will hit soon though. D^:
> 
> i left a lot of hints up on the table, and did a bit of tweaking for this fic! for instance, i know that akira is hardly much older than hide canonically but she and by extension, amon, were aged up for the sake of the AU! also, aspects of kaneki's origin story! there wasn't really a kakuhou to transplant, so....
> 
> last two things: sorry for any typos and errors, i don't have a beta and i am not looking for one, so i know there'll be mistakes (also sorry for the lack of honorifics, i know it's a bit weird)! and finally, thank you for reading! :^D


	2. Chapter 2

 

It takes less than a week to get a reputation at the office.

“Incestigators,” the other investigators jokingly call them. Every investigator who’s ever dated a coworker is subjected to the title, and apparently the stream of gossip has been drying out these past few weeks, if all anyone can talk about is the circumstances of Kaneki’s arrival.

Yeah, yeah, Hide gets it, it looked like he and Kaneki were about to partake in the... uh, _horizontal tango_ , to put it lightly. But you’d think this kind of workplace would be a little more focused on its actual job!

As far as Hide knows, he and Kaneki hardly know each other-- so why are they already being treated like they’re married?

He glances across the table and raises his brow at Kaneki, a curious gesture. Kaneki doesn’t budge. His nose is buried in a book, as it’s been for almost half a week now.

“I’m a little outdated on my literature,” he had quietly mentioned while staring through a bookstore’s window, on their way to Hide’s apartment the day they had made the contract. Hide would’ve offered to purchase him a book or two right then and there, but it’s not like Kaneki would’ve been able to hold it and read it, at the time. He’d been flickering in and out of having a solid form since they had left the testing room.

Hide throws himself back into the present yet again, enjoying the cool circulation tracing its way down his bare arms as he basks in the morning light from the cafe’s windows. His eyes settle on Kaneki’s book itself. He lets out a hum of approval as he notes Kaneki’s success in grasping the cover.

“So, you’re getting the hang of corporeality?” he asks conversationally. Kaneki hunches forward closer to his book, his uncovered eye gleaming in that way that tells Hide that he’d discovered a particularly moving line. He says nothing.

“Oi, Kaneki,” Hide grumbles. He watches Kaneki mouth the words in the sentence silently, trying to memorize them right then and there. Hide waves a hand. No success.

“Kanekiiii...! he sings, as off-key and cheerful as a kid’s cartoon show. Some of the other nearby patrons plug their ears. Kaneki turns the page. Hide pauses his tirade to massage the bridge of his nose.  _Why did he have to choose someone with such a selective attention span?_

Hide reaches around the table to jostle Kaneki’s arm grousing, “Yo, Kaneki,” only to find his hand phase entirely through the limb. He smacks his nose on the side of the table on the way down. The book clatters to rest on its back, no longer supported by Kaneki’s hands. Hide watches from below as Kaneki owlishly blinks. The gears are turning sluggishly in the god’s head as he surveys the spilled coffee, then Hide’s empty chair. Finally, as if coming to a snail-paced conclusion, he leans over to find Hide on the floor.

“Sorry… What was the question?” he asks in a stunned voice. Hide lets his head thunk back on to the floor.

“You just answered it.”

  
_____________

 

The past few days have been kind of like a particularly awkward roller coaster. There are parts that whizz by in a high-speed blur, but there are others where it feels like he’s taking a halt so abrupt his ribcage is shattered by his seatbelt fighting inertia.

Establishing the terms of the contract? That was a blur. While the contract itself is a simple guarantee that a god is willing to venture into the physical world with their contractor as a tether, the CCG knows about the tricks gods like to pull. They also have an agenda to fulfill. Thus, they know to prepare ahead of time.

He, the other successful trainees, and the gods were all ushered out of the room almost immediately after the trial ended, leaving those who had failed behind. Each duo was handed a list of the contract’s details and was demanded to read and agree to the terms with a _handshake_ , the instructor had explained while pointedly looking at Kaneki and Hide. Both of them had writhed in embarrassment. In the process itself, some of the other partnerships had had to call over instructors to help haggle with the terms of agreement, but neither he nor Kaneki had the energy or desire to push for more.

It took five minutes for Kaneki to remanifest long enough to manage a handshake. Hide still teases him over it, every once in awhile.

Then it was off to paperwork, uniform measurements (which are pretty amusing when one subject barely even _has_ a torso), and office assignments. They had stumbled out of the CCG HQ in the late evening, Hide with a shiny new badge, and Kaneki with a medical eye patch.

“He can’t wear it now, but he’ll need it later. He’s still practically an infant when it comes to controlling his kakugan,” an instructor had explained almost gleefully, watching Kaneki turn bright red in embarrassment. Hide had chuckled along and agreed, “Yeah, we’ll use this-- for the public’s sake!”

The first sudden ‘halt’ on this figurative rollercoaster had been the aftermath of that instance where Kaneki had been a little _too_ silent and decided to ask a question while Hide was making coffee. The second was when they’d been shut down to go on the field for an easy case because they both ‘weren’t quite ready for the field yet’. The third was when Kaneki’s weapon, a flexible tentacle-like feature that all gods had, decided to make a sudden appearance and nearly impaled Hide in the middle of watching a movie.

Yeah, it’s been an eventful five days.

They’ve spent the majority of their work hours in the training rooms, exchanging practice blows and coordinating strikes-- Hide insists they need to look cool while fighting in the field, and most of the time, Kaneki nervously laughs along. It’s getting frustrating sitting back and waiting to be sent on a case, but if the CCG doesn’t think they’re prepared, Hide won’t push it.

He lands a solid punch on the sand-filled dummy, feeling the vibrations echo up his arm before sending his other fist downwards as well.

“Go!” he shouts at Kaneki, who has been flitting side to side behind him. He’s gone in a puff of smoke and ozone, reforming mid-air as he descends with what is sure to be a serious kick. Hide waits for the inevitable _thunk_ , but the impact never happens. He looks up to find half of Kaneki’s body has phased through the dummy and into the floor.

“Sorry!” Kaneki yelps, scrambling to float his way back out. He drifts upwards, twisting to land lightly onto the floor, his feet now solid enough to stand. Hide lets the corner of his mouth twitch upright, giving his partner the smile he had to invent specifically to counter moments like these.

“It’s fine, Kaneki!” he chirps, brushing his knees as he rises from his crouch, “We’ve just got to find a way to give you more time between reforming and the actual strike. I think it’s just getting a grasp on staying solid that makes this a little more difficult.” He taps his nose knowingly, but Kaneki continues to look exasperated with himself.

“I think I’m the one holding us back here--”

“--Ah ah!” Hide cuts him off with a successful flick to the nose. “You’ve got plenty of fighting and field experience; _way_ more than me. It’s just one little hurdle.” Kaneki moves to speak, and Hide interrupts him again.

“If I lived in a dark, nasty cave for a bajillion years, would I be ready to immediately go stand outside in solid daylight with little to no adjusting?”

“...No,” Kaneki mutters.

“I’d explode, probably!” Hide exclaims, mimicking explosions with his hands for emphasis.

“A little dramatic, but I get the point,” Kaneki mumbles, moving a hand to rub his eye. He notices his eye patch has fluttered to the floor when the side of his fist meets no resistance, and bends to pick it up, dismayed.

“Look, I’m not a god, so I can’t tell you how it should feel, but you’ve been in a totally different realm for way longer than usual! Being and staying solid apparently isn’t like riding a bicycle; it takes a bit of review to get it down. So I’m willing to wait for however long it takes for you to feel comfortable.” He shoots another grin in the hopes that Kaneki won’t try to apologize again.

“If you insist,” Kaneki sighs as he finishes looping the eye patch back on. He turns to readjust the dummy, oblivious to Hide’s scrutinizing stare.

See, Hide’s still trying to draw the line between where pre-contract Kaneki ends, and post-contract Kaneki begins. Because to be honest, there really are two entirely different personalities residing in the god, and figuring out what triggers each of them is like stepping through a minefield with cement shoes.

Pre-contract Kaneki gives Hide heart palpitations when he thinks of him, and not the good kind. The detached aggression, the slinking and snarling that tells Hide that the only one in the wrong is himself, and worst of all, the lingering impression that regardless of the fact that Hide got what he wanted, he’s still being played like a harp-- guitar-- banjo-- _w_ _hatever_ , some sort of instrument. He hasn’t seen that side of Kaneki since their contract was made, but the fact that _it was there_ is enough reason for Hide to lock his bedroom door before going to bed. It gives him a false sense of security, despite knowing that Kaneki could probably just phase through the wall.

Post-contract Kaneki reminds Hide of a child who’s been abandoned and is resigned to his fate, for a lack of a better comparison. He makes an effort to show his complete understanding of the world around him, but when he thinks Hide’s back is turned, there’s a hopeless look tugging his frame down. Surprisingly shy, he usually lets Hide do the talking when they approach higher-ups, and he doesn’t go out of his way to socialize with the other gods wandering the premises. His uncovered eye is constantly wide open, whether it’s to show innocence or alertness; but the gleam dulls when he stops dealing with anyone besides Hide. Then he looks beaten down and weary, like a dog that understands that biting back will result in another brutal kick to the ribs. It makes something in Hide’s chest clench. People always emphasize Amon’s suffering during the catastrophe over twenty years ago, but Hide feels like he’s getting a glimpse into the other side; neither party left unscarred.

Of course, vocalizing his sympathy might get him shipped to the CCG’s therapist. When discussing a murder case, you don’t show empathy towards the _murderer_ , for fuck’s sake.

But anyways, it’s pretty obvious to say that the descriptions in the textbooks are a far cry from the real deal that is Kaneki Ken, though Hide doesn’t know if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing. He should’ve realized that there was no way in hell a god could be summarized through any amount of sentences in a book. There’s too much finer print involved in personality; the same could be said of any human-- speaking of which, is god psychology essentially the same as humans’?

He shakes his head, clearing away his cluttered thoughts. Now’s not the time to be sending himself in loops; he’s got a god to appease.

“Hey, Kaneki.”

“Yes?” Kaneki turns back to him, still stiff with shame.

“I think we’ve been at this for long enough that we deserve a break, eh?” Hide creeps over to elbow Kaneki’s side, keeping up his own relaxed stance.

“I kind of want to keep practicing though,” Kaneki gives a strained laugh. Hide can already tell that that will be a terrible idea. He’ll just end up feeling more frustrated, at this point.

“Look at the time, though!” Hide cries, jabbing a hand towards the clock. Kaneki tilts his head.

“It’s noon.”

“Yeah!”

“...And?”

“Oh my gods, _Kaneki_ ,” Hide grits out, getting carried away in his theatrics as he slaps a palm to his face. “That means it’s time for our lunch break.”

“Oh,” Kaneki curtly answers. Hide wraps an arm over his shoulders, doing his best to sag against Kaneki.

“I know you don’t have to worry much about food, but think of me and my delicate meat suit, for once!” he cries again, triumphant as Kaneki stops pouting in place of spluttering. Kaneki’s hands frantically scramble to pull Hide upright, too polite to let Hide just drop to the floor. He gets a grip around Hide’s waist and hikes him upwards. Hide’s about to compliment him on the contrast between his red face and white hair when someone wolf whistles through the doorway.

“Glad to see the newlyweds’ sex life is still as busy as ever!” the coworker calls, already bustling away. Hide snaps to attention, and is sprinting to the door less than a second later.

“Say that to our faces, you ass!” he shouts, using the doorway’s frame to speed up his turn before racing down the hallway.

Behind him, he can hear Kaneki quietly pleading for him to stop. A few moments later there’s a sigh, and an explosion of ozone by Hide’s side. Kaneki keeps up the rapid pace, looking mildly done with the entire situation.

 

_____________

 

 

Two days pass, and Hide casually tosses a plastic bag of newly purchased books in Kaneki’s direction on the couch in his apartment; he knows it’ll just phase through the other, so there’s no worries behind his action.

...Except the bag bounces off Kaneki’s head instead.

Kaneki, caught off guard, lets out a flat “ouch” before turning to look at Hide. He’s assaulted with Hide’s excited shouting, followed by a tackle that would’ve knocked the breath out of him, if he actually had functioning lungs.

 

_____________

 

 

Less than a day passes, and one of Kaneki’s specialized attacks finally slips out in the middle of their combat training.

Hide _would_ be congratulating him, except the nature of the attack targets sentient beings. Unfortunately, besides the caster, he was the only one in the room able to receive it. This all means that he’s a little occupied with scratching desperately at his own skin while laying on the floor, offhandedly praising Lady Luck for the fact that he trimmed his nails yesterday.

“Help me please, ack,Kaneki!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Just…” Hide pauses his attack to furiously swat at the crook between his shoulder and neck, “I think one’s trying to crawl up my nose, help.” He dives right back into itching, watching Kaneki hold his hands out in front of him in a position that screams, ‘ _Grant me forgiveness, oh gods._ ’

“There’s not actually anything on you, and I stopped before it got too serious! Just wait it out, it’ll end, I promise!” Kaneki keeps glancing nervously towards the door. Hide assumes that Kaneki believes he’s going to get into serious trouble if he’s caught as a culprit in this situation. He’s probably right. Hide sucks air through his teeth, telling himself that this is just an illusion. Just ignore it, man. The sensations die down, long enough for Hide to loosen the tightness in his muscles and sprawl out.

A hundred tiny legs suddenly trace a tingling path around his neck, followed by a hundred more down his spine.

“It feels pretty real to me!” Hide complains to the ceiling, raking his nails where his skin feels like it’s crawling. Kaneki lets out an apologetic whine out of the back of his throat. He crouches over Hide with his hands hovering, too nervous to touch.

“Why centipedes?” Hide whimpers. Kaneki swallows.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear it,” he manages to shove an awkward laugh from between his lips, watching Kaneki’s tension over the subject be wiped clean.

Hide’s lying through his teeth. He _definitely_ wants to hear it.

 

_____________

 

 

It’s early enough in the morning that Hide could mistake the phone’s ringing for an old lady’s shrieking.

He mumbles a few nonsense words into his pillow, growling when a quick glance towards the window shows that it’s still dark outside.

“Shut up,” he moans to the phone.

Surprisingly, the phone listens and goes silent almost immediately.

“Wha…?” he pulls his head up to stare at his door. A quiet knock sounds through the wood.

“Hide,” Kaneki says behind the door in a hushed voice. Oh.

“Coming,” Hide slurs, trying to pat down some of his bed head as he moves to click open the door. Kaneki is fully dressed and awake, his hand wrapped around the phone.

“I totally forgot for a second there that you don’t sleep,” Hide yawns, tugging down the edge of his T-shirt. Kaneki gives a small smile.

“Having so much time isn’t always the best, but at least I can fit more reading into my schedule,” he shyly responds. Hide doesn’t know how he should reply to that, so he offers a lopsided grin and nods to the phone.

“Who called?”

“Mado Akira.” Hide twists his lip at the answer.

“The instructor?” Kaneki bobs his head in confirmation.

“What does she want?” Hide questions, rubbing the back of his neck. Kaneki pulls his other hand out from behind him, placing something into Hide’s hands. His CCG badge.

“Apparently she’s been placed in charge of a case that’s perfect field practice for rookies,” he explains. Hide gestures him to keep talking, knowing there’s more.

“She wants us to be outside her office an hour before our usual starting time. Any later and she’ll hand the case to someone else--”

  
Kaneki is cut off as Hide slams the door in his face, already rushing to pull on his work clothes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so this is the /third/ time i've had to type out end notes, so i'm hoping this WON'T delete itself when i'm not looking... please. 
> 
> but huzzah, i finally took the time to post some more content here! half of this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month, and i just thought, 'to hell with it' and wrote out the other half in about a day. i mean, there's a lot here i'm not over the moon about, like awkward transitions and organization in general, but not every chapter can be a winner, and i'd probably end up never posting if i tried to fine-tune it all... heh. 
> 
> moving on, this was originally a "one chapter then DROP IT" fic, but all of your kind comments and some ruminating have gotten me invested in this au! i did some tweaking of the original bullet points in the end notes of the first chapter for the sake of the story. so, if you read this when the first chapter posted, it may be worth looking over the updated end notes! 
> 
> there are a lot of questions that arise in this chapter, but i'm hoping i'll do a good job of incorporating answers in following chapters. especially things like 'what are the terms of the contract' and 'wtf how does the magic behind a contract even work'! 
> 
> as usual, this is unbeta'd and i'm not looking for a beta, so i'm sorry for any typos! also, apologies for a lack of honorifics, i know it's a tad weird, hahah.
> 
> finally, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Hide is honestly considering filing a complaint about the CCG’s required field uniforms. While the pants are practical and the boots are soft and supportive, the clunky vest is chafing into his collarbones through his slim-fitting turtleneck. And while it may be handy for stopping bullets, he doubts it’ll be helpful in  _managing to dodge them in the first place_.

He side-eyes Kaneki as they stroll past another alleyway, jealous of the black leather suit the god gets to wear instead. Not because he wants to wear a skin-tight unitard with a pair of shorts or anything... He just _really_ doesn’t like wearing the vest.

Kaneki catches Hide’s eye, cocking an eyebrow when his partner doesn’t immediately say anything.

“Wanna switch gear?” Hide finally asks, half-joking. Kaneki gives a quiet laugh-- the kind that Hide can’t help but scarf down like a starving animal whenever he catches a rare glimpse of it, mainly for pride’s sake.

“Something tells me you wouldn’t fit in this,” he tugs the shoulder of the suit, showing how little stretch it provides. Hide scoffs.

“I’m not _that_ much taller than you.”

“...But you aren’t quite as small,” Kaneki smiles, sass lilting his tone. A glance-over confirms that yes, Hide might be a _little_ bulkier. Hide waves the god off, rolling his eyes.

“Please! Unlike you, I need food daily to survive! And food is awesome!” He takes a moment to peer at the street sign to their left, giving a brief shake of his head when the name doesn’t match with the one on his slip of paper. Kaneki is giving a thoughtful stare to the store signs lining the street.

“Hamburgers were pretty good,” he muses. Hide’s steps stutter as he spares another glance at Kaneki.

“You remember what hamburgers taste like?” he asks. Kaneki gives a nod, his smile from earlier still as shy and nervous as before. Hide grins.

“Once we’re done with this, we could stop by an American restaurant called Big Girl, if you want. Maybe they’ll let us buy whatever they season their beef with!” He has to stop himself from reaching over to clap Kaneki on the back like he’s grown accustomed to; he’d end up losing his balance and sprawling on the concrete instead.

“Really?” Kaneki questions, his missing eyepatch revealing that both of his eyes are blown with surprise.

“I don’t see why not,” Hide shrugs.

“I’d love that,” Kaneki hums in confirmation. His gait is a little more spry as they continue to walk, a minute detail that Hide is happy to latch on to. Because it means he’s won another small portion of Kaneki over-- even if it is by a kind of ridiculous mean. But hey, he’d be over the moon too, if he finally got something to spiff up his rare feeding sessions. It’s not like it’s easy to grow a taste for synthetically-grown--

“--I think this is the right place,” Kaneki tilts his head to the sign by a new alleyway. Hide lets out an embarrassed cough from being caught so off-guard, casually holding the note up so he can see the name better.

“Yep, this is it,” Hide confirms. He crams the slip of paper into his pants’ pocket, shuffling his briefcase so it’s in his left-- and dominant-- hand. He cocks an ear towards the alley’s opening, waiting to hear signs of movement. Or screams? Laughter? Maybe a group cheer that the gang came up with during a bonding session? Eh. It’s not like he knows what to expect. All he receives is a heaping pile of silence, anyways.

“Are you getting anything?” he murmurs at Kaneki, who is leaning in the same direction. The god’s head moves to shake, but the motion dies instantly. Hide nearly ruins the tense mood by snorting when Kaneki’s nostrils flare almost comically.

“There’s a small amount of sulfur coming from that direction,” Kaneki finally explains after a beat of silence. “No ozone.”

“Whew,” Hide sighs loudly, switching his case back to his right hand. He shimmies his handgun from the holster strapped to his thigh, noting the way his partner’s posture has shrunk a few sizes, making him look unnervingly at ease. They’re both relieved by the news.

“Guess we dodged a bullet there,” Hide chuckles before motioning Kaneki into the alley. Hide quickly reverts to his training, keeping his paces light and crouching to regulate the force of his steps while breathing steadily. Kaneki has a confident, upright stride; his shoulders are squared and his footsteps are wide. Hide can’t tell if he’s trying to pump himself up for an encroaching fight, or if he’s just gloating that he doesn’t have to go through Hide’s ridiculous movements.

They reach a bend in the alley, and Hide slows further to keep himself closer to the wall. Kaneki strolls ahead, casually glancing around the corner before nodding Hide forward, letting him creep onwards.

“Still smelling the sulfur?” Hide mutters under his breath as he passes.

“It’s stronger now,” Kaneki comments, his nose wrinkling against the sour smell. He risks another sniff. “Still no ozone.”

“Good,” Hide replies. His right shoulder scrapes the bricks of the building he’s plastered against as he keeps creeping forward; his left arm is stiff and prepared to raise his pistol. Unfortunately, he can’t actually aim and fire properly until his right hand is free from carrying the briefcase, but that part’s all reliant on his movements’ timing and coordination. Which he and Kaneki are getting pretty damn good at, if he must say so.

Hide’s eyes skirt around the perimeter. On his right is a long-vacant restaurant, and to his left is an even more desolate warehouse. The asphalt path he’s striding on is clear and barrier-free, and the skyline is a familiar, brilliant blue, not a blemish in sight.

He goes back to scan the area again, to get a feel for everything and anything’s location. But someone’s already memorized this area long before he could, and they’ve spotted the discrepancy.

The bricks in front of him explode into a flurry of clay and cement.

“Ah!” Hide yelps, but he’s already moving, already leaping away from the comfort of the wall and running backwards before the shooter can snap their scope onto him. He brandishes his suitcase like a shield, wiggling it in the direction of the warehouse. Because where else would the shooter be? The bullet would have missed the wall if it had been shot from almost any other direction! He dives back around the corner, kicking off a fine layer of dust that coats his pants when the next bullet sprays up asphalt behind him.

“Are you alright?” Kaneki’s asking before Hide has even peeled himself off the ground. He’s tugged on his mask now that the battle’s started, the familiar gums and pearly teeth that plagued almost _all_ the textbooks Hide had to mull through while growing up are front and center. When Hide looks at the rapidly-twitching kakugan his partner has swapped for his human eye, he finally feels like he’s meeting a celebrity.

“I’m good,” Hide coughs instead of screaming in horror. Or asking for an autograph. One or the other. He rolls back into a crouch, pressing his back against the wall. “Could you take another peek and tell me where that shooter is?”

Kaneki shoves his head back out into the open, not even bothering to be subtle. He lists out what he sees from his spot, visible eye unblinking.

“The shooter has a perch by a higher-up window in the warehouse. Maybe there’s a walkway that they’re standing on? I didn’t think there were multiple floors in that building; I thought it was just tall… I’ll look into that. Either way, it’s only one person.”

“Only one person for security?” Hide scoffs. “They must be a pretty lousy gang.” He scoots towards the corner of the building, preparing to jump back into the mix. A fragment of his hair juts just beyond his cover as he leans; another bang drags Hide backwards, using his hands to scramble away from the mess caused by the third bullet.

“And I thought I couldn’t take any criticism!” he gasps. One or two distorted voices start to buzz in his ears as he quickly pulls himself upright, fixing his grip on his pistol and suitcase at the same time.

“I’ve got to get into the warehouse to find the rest of the gang,” he mutters. Kaneki hums in agreement from his spot, still surveying the shooter.

“It looks like they’re planning to come and find _you_ ,” he quietly warns Hide.

Hide shrugs. He twists his lip for a moment, flipping through his options.

He could rush the entrance and hope the shooter wasn’t skilled enough to knock him down. He could wait back here until the gang came to him, then try to fight. He could try to shoot out the attacker from his current spot. He could-- Okay, he could do _a lot_ of things. But the option that sounds the best could possibly uncover his advantage way before he wanted it to be revealed.

Hmph. He guesses he can’t have his cake and eat it too.

“Do you mind taking the shooter out?” he asks Kaneki, internally pouting. Kaneki shoots him a confused look.

“What happened to your whole ‘hiding the wildcard’ plan?” he questions. The voices from the building are escalating, yet he doesn’t even grace them with a glance in their direction. Hide sighs, feeling a bit like a kid being looked down on by a parent.

“Field work ended up being a little tougher than I imagined.”

Kaneki unfurls from his crouch, standing upright-- he’s in plain sight of the shooter. Hide has to give props to the whole invisible-slash-incorporeal thing. If Kaneki was human, who knows how much lead they’d be having to pry out of the guy’s corpse?

“Alright,” he grunts.

“Great!” Hide chimes. “But how cool would it have been if I had pummeled my way through all those guys, and fought my way right into their headquarters? And right in the middle of the final showdown between me and the boss, you just popped up like ‘Guess who!’ and helped me kick his butt?” Kaneki stares.

“You read too much shonen manga,” he deadpans. Hide grins.

“You read too much stuffy literature,” he counters. Kaneki snorts.

Then he’s gone in a flume of ozone-- a few moments later Hide hears a woman yell from not too far away.

“Wha-- Oh! You can’t kill her, dude!” Hide shouts in Kaneki and the shooter’s direction, hoping he hadn’t reminded his partner a second too late. The bond’s muffled side effects are already kicking in, and Hide has to spare another half a second steadying himself while his vision gives a sharp twist.

The dizziness is nearly gone as quickly as it came; it settles into a puddle of nausea in his stomach. Then Hide tears through the alley, straight towards the single doorway. He reaches ahead in his hurry, trying to tug open the door with a few free fingers on his right hand. It’s locked, and Hide’s momentum sends him sailing forward. Right into the metal door.

So much for being graceful.

Tottering back a few steps, side still smarting from the impact, Hide lowers the case to the ground. He snaps into his sturdier stance, shoulders set and arms straight as he raises the pistol, quickly aiming towards the lock. _Bang_. He picks up the case and tests the door’s handle. It easily swings open.

The door leads into a tall, vast storage room-- right above him, he can see a metal walkway wrapped around the upper wall, running right by the window. So Kaneki’s suspicions were right. His boots squeak against the polished concrete as he takes a few more bouncy steps backwards, farther into the room as he tilts his head higher upwards, looking for his partner. Kaneki’s gotta be on the walkway, right?

“Boo,” a voice flatly replies behind him. Hide startles anyways. He whips around to face his partner.

Kaneki looks like he ran through an obstacle course while toddlers flung red paint erratically on him... And the source of the red paint is slung over his shoulder.

“Why’d you bring her!?” Hide whisper-shouts, grabbing Kaneki’s (thankfully solid) wrist and dragging him and the shooter behind a stack of crates near the entrance.

“You have the handcuffs, and she’ll be easier to collect from down here, rather than up there,” Kaneki reasons as he lowers the shooter to the ground, propping her back against the crates. “Could I have some handcuffs and tape?” he looks up, using a tone that would be misleadingly sweet, if Kaneki wasn’t splattered in blood. Wordlessly, Hide puts down his case and digs through his pocket for a roll of tape. A pair of handcuffs are looped over his waistband, and they take a moment longer to hand over. Kaneki offers an oddly formal “thank you” before getting to work.

“Y’know,” Hide starts as he clambers up and grabs the case, “I would be thanking you for not killing her if it didn’t feel so weird.” Kaneki shrugs.

“I wouldn’t have been able to kill her anyways, remember?”

Oh right. The contract.

“Yeah… Definitely,” Hide awkwardly answers, rubbing the back of his neck with the heel of his pistol-laden hand. Kaneki offers an understanding smile.

“I can’t blame you forgetting; the technicalities made every condition kind of blur together,” he finishes wrapping the tape around the shooter’s legs. “I doubt I’d remember everything if forgetting to stick to it wasn’t so risky.”

Hide’s guilt flips from the ‘sheepish’ variety to ‘deeply ingrained’ for a moment. Then he gives it a solid push backwards, desperately trying to empty his head. He’s on the job! He can’t be wasting so much energy on feelings!

The corners of Kaneki’s mouth are downturned as he joins Hide in standing upright. His weight is slightly skewed, with a lot of it shifted to his left.

“Are you feeling okay?” Hide asks, kind of out of obligation. Kaneki nods.

“Whoever this gang is though, they almost managed to make a proper ward. I got in through a gap in the windowsill, but the ward’s effects from close proximity aren’t exactly nice,” he stiffly explains. Hide’s stomach roils in sympathy… Or…

“...Is one of the effects nausea?” Another tight nod.

“The bond sure settled quickly,” Hide concludes. “I feel pretty cruddy too,” he elaborates.

“Contractors never seem to realize that the deal’s a double-edged sword,” Kaneki sighs, and Hide suddenly has a million and one questions that all have to wait.

Because someone pulls him into a chokehold from behind.

“This is so unprofessional!” he grits to Kaneki as he’s yanked backwards, more disappointed in himself than the gang member. At least _one_ of them is doing their job properly! First on-field job and he’d already made one of the dumbest mistakes in the book! ‘ _Hi, welcome to your first day of CCG investigator training! Here’s tip number one:_ **don’t get distracted**.’

Frustrated with the clutter in his hands, he tosses the suitcase upwards. Kaneki yanks it from the air with a clean snatch, to Hide’s delight. Then the god’s sprinting to place it somewhere safe; Hide can see how disgruntled Kaneki is over not being able to teleport with his luggage, but hey, at least he’s free! Unhampered, Hide quickly leaps into action.

He jolts back and sweeps his right leg around the gang member, hunching over and taking the other guy downwards with him. With a quick twist of his head he’s out of the lock, and letting his hooked foot fly out forwards. He rams into the back of the attacker’s knee, causing him to collapse. A quick punch to the face, and the man’s down for the count.

“Sorry, buddy!” Hide yelps when he sees the damage on the man’s nose, a mess of blood and cracked cartilage. He does a small hop over the body, finally able to properly point his pistol as he treks further into the storage room.

The voices are stronger, less jumbled as he weaves around another tower of boxes.

“Five up ahead,” Kaneki breathes from his side, ghosting by Hide’s shoulder. Hide tries to ignore the tinge of fear that creeps into his breathing when he thinks about what would happen if that stealth was being used against him.

“Can they see you?” he whispers back. Kaneki reluctantly grunts in affirmation.

“Well, it’s only my hand, but there’s no other way to carry the case unless it’s solidified,” he explains.

“A floating hand carrying a briefcase,” Hide muses, eyes still trained forward, “maybe they’ll think they’re being haunted by the ghost of a businessman.”

“Ha,” Kaneki rolls his vermillion eye, which is a little more disorienting than a normal eye roll. The voices are no longer distorted, and Hide takes it as a clear sign that it’s time to duck. He crouches behind another pile of crates, nodding at Kaneki to give another glance.

“They’re all in a circle a little less than a hundred feet away; there’s some kind of bowl in the middle… Whatever they’re doing, they’re trying to do it quickly before you interrupt.” Kaneki squints.

“What?” Hide murmurs back, watching the features on his partner’s face drop behind the leather of his mask.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kaneki answers with another frustratingly vague comment.

“ _What_?” he asks again with a sharper tone, only to be met with thundering silence. Kaneki shoots a pained look at Hide.

“Looks like they found you.”

The varying shouts from in front of the boxes only further back that statement up.

“We’ve got to go,” he mutters before yanking Hide forward by his upper arm and pulling him to the left side of the clearing, still shielded by boxes.

“So here’s the gameplan--” Hide starts, already flipping through their practice sessions for a strategy.

“--It won’t work,” Kaneki interrupts, chipping in an offbeat “sorry” when he realizes his rudeness. Huh. “These people have a rough sense of what they’re doing, and any sort of understanding is a potential problem to us.”

“How do you know?” Hide mutters quietly, moving leftward by his own initiative, now. They need to keep moving, to give a more difficult target.

“The ward around this place was a big tip, but even worse, they have all the right ingredients.”

“For…” Hide starts, knowing where this is going.

“For a home-grown summoning,” Kaneki finishes.

Then the boxes directly to their left are shredded into a drifting clutter of cardboard, and a man and a woman are crashing through with a wild look shared in their eyes. Hide rolls to his right and hopes Kaneki managed to lug the case somewhere aside in time.

“Find the other one!” the woman bellows over her shoulder, swinging her gun in Hide’s direction. He darts to his side and nearly tumbles over when the man lunges, aiming for the spot that Hide would’ve landed in, if he had kept his momentum up.

“There isn’t anyone else to find,” Hide quirks a smile as he twists into a backwards bend, under the path of another well-aimed swing. Hide had a bit of a philosophy for uncertain moments: when in doubt, smile. Either people would think would think he was friendly and warm up, or they’d think he was creepy and start getting nervous. He’s crossing his fingers for the latter, but the former would be nice too, even if it’s a bit unrealistic.

“Really?” the woman scoffs. “Then who the hell were you whispering to?” Hide shrugs.

“Can’t a guy have a serious conversation with his imaginary friends every once in awhile?” he replies dryly.

“Shut the fuck up!” she spits alongside her next swing, which Hide dodges easily before landing himself directly in range of the man’s vicious uppercut.

“Ow,” Hide grunts from the floor. He scrambles to get up but the woman’s knees drive into his diaphragm and he forgets for a frightening three seconds that air is a thing that exists. Then he’s trapped on his back as she drives her fist into his left eye and his thoughts evaporate in a cloud of distress and shock.

“Shoot him,” her voice drifts into his ears. Then he’s tensing up as he gets a prime view of a gun from _the wrong side_ and--

“Eyepatch!” he yells. The chaos freezes in place.

“What--?” both the man and woman ask in startled unison, interrupted as a red tentacle unceremoniously slams into their sides. They go skidding across the concrete floor, rolling to a stop a considerable distance away.

Kaneki offers a hand, features plain as his kagune slinks back beneath his skin.

“Where were you?” Hide coughs as he’s pulled up, taking a second to lean on his partner.

“Dealing with the two women trying to sneak up from the right,” he curtly says. “...They had some countermeasures,” he tacks on. Hide can smell some sort of gas hanging onto the god’s uniform. The splitting headache it chips into his skull is irritating, but it must be hell for Kaneki.

“You stink,” he helpfully informs Kaneki.

“And you look awful,” Kaneki offers back. They share grins.

Finally sure of his own strength, Hide slides off to limp his way in the direction of the man and woman.

“We’ve got to cuff everybody before they wake up,” he explains with another staggered step. “We don’t want anyone bolting before backup arrives.” He kneels and wrestles another two pairs of handcuffs from their perch on his waistband, looping them around the woman’s wrists before promptly doing the same with the man’s.

“The shooter, the man by the entrance, the man and the woman who fought you, the two women who fought me…” Kaneki lists them off in his head. “Wasn’t there another…?”

And then they spot him sprinting towards the bowl in the center of the room, already shouting some sort of incantation.

“Catch him before he finishes that spell!” Hide orders as he staggers upwards. The briefcase Kaneki was carrying hits the ground with a wince-worthy clatter. Kaneki jolts forward. Blinks when there’s no results. Tries again. Nothing.

“I hate that gas!” he snarls, forgoing teleportation for running after the man.

“Do something else-- I dunno, a specialized attack!” Hide shouts from the sidelines, still too disoriented to chase.

“Okay!” Kaneki pelts back. And then the room contorts and bends, black and white tiling swooping in, swerving out and making the walls contract; Hide belatedly realizes that Kaneki hadn’t had the time to pinpoint a target, and now he’s been caught in the crossfires. Again. His skull feels like it’s being compressed until it’s the width of a toothpick; then it’s stretching impossibly wide. The sensations flow from one extreme to another like a faceless monster’s inhales and exhales, and Hide has to focus on his _own_ erratic breathing, rather than whatever else is going on in the impossible room.

Then he blinks, and the room is normal again. Kaneki is standing by the man, towering by the swaying figure.

Both humans pause to empty the contents of their stomachs on the ground, almost in unison.

“Sweet, sweet victory,” Hide groans into the concrete as Kaneki proceeds to roundhouse kick the last gang member.  

 

* * *

 

They finally find a chance to investigate the now overturned bowl once backup has arrived, and the gang members have been carted away.

There’s an oozing concoction smeared across the floor, a murky blue-brown that settles in clumps. Hide doesn’t need Kaneki’s nose to figure out what the horrible smell is.

“This is probably the worst summoning attempt I’ve ever seen,” he grumbles.

“This is your first field mission, though,” Kaneki reminds him.

“I know! And this is _awful_ ,” Hide whines. He wants to poke the concoction with the toe of his boot, but that’d be mean to his shoe.

Kaneki ignores him to prowl around the circumference of the spill, pausing when he finds something in the mess. He plucks the item up with the tips of his fingers, grimacing as if he were rooting through a corpse. It suddenly occurs to Hide that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Red glasses…?” Hide murmurs in confusion as he catches the glimpse of color between the muck. He glances at Kaneki for an explanation, biting his tongue in repressed fright when he sees the dark expression on the god’s face.

“Who was that supposed to be?” he asks nervously. Kaneki finally looks at him.

“Definitely not someone good,” he answers, promptly hurling the glasses away. When they crack against one of the walls of the warehouse, an alarming distance away, Hide internally applauds himself for not jumping.

“Let’s just be thankful that that gang’s incantations weren’t even remotely right,” he sighs before spinning on his heel and walking off.

Hide has to trot to keep up with Kaneki, cursing his clumsy, tired legs as they stride directly out of the scene.

He can already taste the sour backstory behind Kaneki and whoever the gang was trying to summon, and the curiosity gnawing at his ribs starts biting harder. He _has_ to know what’s going on in his partner’s head, he’s _dying_ to understand.

But there’s a time and a place for snooping around, and that time isn’t here, and that place isn’t now.

There’s only one thought that comes to mind as Hide watches his partner’s features, anger barely stuffed under the surface:

  
Kaneki is in desperate need of a visit to Big Girl. _Pronto_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should probably explain this before i do anything else: the reason hide can still see kaneki despite the whole invisibility thing is a result of their bond/contract! i'm planning to have the explanation come up later, but since i don't have later chapters written out and i /know/ it seems like a glaring plothole, i'm just addressing it right here, right now, hahah.
> 
> but besides that, i've got mixed feelings about this chapter! like the one before it, it was tough to get it all typed and connected; when it comes to this story, i feel like the pacing is sometimes a bit iffy, or my phrasing is kind of difficult to understand! so i spend a lot of time angsting over that usually before posting... also it's worth noting that i wrote about 50% of this in the past few hours, so it's likely i missed a few things-- so sorry for any typos!
> 
> things are still awfully slow here plot-wise, because trust me when i say both kaneki /and/ hide have little secrets up their sleeves... we've just been mainly rotating around kaneki's. but they'll come up! i promise! there's also the matter that i've left a lot of loose ends here, but they'll be tied up eventually!
> 
> anyways, i hope this chapter was alright, and i'm sorry for such a delay! thanks for reading! :^D


	4. Chapter 4

 

The ache is finally back.

No matter how much he shifts and fidgets, the pain is lodged in his innards like a solidified hunk of napalm, scorching him in his very center. He feels like he’s constantly in the midst of exploding.

He’d lasted a grand total of one week without it, one week of an empty stomach and flailing in a mold he didn’t quite know how to fill. His jobs are small; small enough that he really shouldn’t feel so weak. But how he’s feeling right now-- how he always used to feel? That’s weak.

Between powerlessness and losing portions of himself in the deeper, fragmented sections of his physiology, he’d rather lose to himself than someone else.

Currently, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Sprawled out on the couch, Kaneki stares at the ceiling as he lazily rides through the sensation of his appendix bursting. Or… was it a kidney that failed? He wiggles a bit on the couch, furrowing his brow as he concentrates on exactly where the pain is. Oh. Yep. That’s his appendix.

His skin stretched over the area feels like it’s bubbling, and he absentmindedly offers a pat to the right of his torso, as if a comforting touch could get it to sit down and shut up like an obedient dog. The angry burn flares instead. Kaneki doesn’t waste energy on letting out a dismayed hiss. The pain isn’t new, though its novelty never wears off. He just learned how to put on a brave face. Still, no matter how much it hurts, it won’t kill him.

His body has practically been dead for decades anyways.

The organs he loses about as regularly as a clutz misplaces their keys aren’t really even _his_ anymore. They’ve failed and regenerated so many times that his insides are probably more reminiscent to a stranger’s, cellular soup that solidifies and liquefies faster than Kaneki can keep tally. When he’d tried recording which of his organs had given out in his early days-- mainly a study in his body’s reaction to god magic-- he had stopped looking at his journal once the number of times he’d burst a lung reached ten within three months.

The only two organs that are apparently vital to have (and the only two that haven’t decided to give out on him yet) are his heart and brain. The rest are expendable. And when you’re forcefully crammed full of god magic and one particularly nonhuman heart, anything human isn’t likely to survive. Well, besides the brain. Kaneki has wasted many hours wondering what it would be like to go to sleep with one identity, and wake up with a clean, superhuman slate.

...Then again, the thought is totally senseless. He can’t even sleep.

That drops his train of thought right back into the present as he lays in the living room. The night is starless with a new moon and by extension, the room is stuffed with darkness. Kaneki listens to the ticking of the clock hung on a nearby wall. He taps the side of his jaw as he tries to predict what time it is. Hide had locked his door and went to bed a few hours ago, so it must be… Four? He glances at the clock. It’s three.       

Groaning, he slaps a hand over his eyes in disappointment. What level of inept did he have to be to still not have a hang of Earth’s timing? It’s been a week!         

He rolls off the couch and stands, letting his feet solidify just so he can hear the satisfying creak of the floorboards. There’s an early-morning buzz that sidles into the room through the window, cars gliding and footsteps of people too stubborn to sleep echoing against the pavement. It’s an old symphony that makes Kaneki feel like he’s home. He almost starts to jog in the direction of his father’s study before realizing that he’s not in his mother’s apartment. That the building had been plowed over years ago.          

He creeps to the kitchen instead.   

It’s forgettable in all the ways its owner isn’t; drab colors and neatly organized tools hung precisely where they’re supposed to be. Entirely predictable. Kaneki finds the coffee machine exactly where he’d expect it, tucked in a humble alcove between the cabinets and counter. A bag of coffee grounds is right next to it-- Hide had bought five of them once he’d learned that Kaneki could still drink coffee.          

He tasks himself with setting the machine up and brewing a cup, mainly for the sake of having something to do. Pouring water into the reservoir, putting the carafe back onto the heating plate, dumping in an unhealthy amount of grounds to get the kind of coffee that’d make Kaneki legitimately taste _something_.

The entire process feels like cheating, but his old boss from the coffee shop isn’t around to scold him for his laziness. He’s probably dead.

The cheap coffee brew’s smell warms the room up significantly, enough so that the rupturing in Kaneki’s side simmers a little less. After settling himself at the table with a full mug and his book, he wills away the drowsy fog in his mind so he can read. He casually sips his coffee as he cruises through the first page. The second page’s events are slightly difficult to recall as he tips his head back for the remainder of what’s in the mug. The third page is a blur as he clambers over for another cup. The fourth page is outright ignored as the drink is gone as quickly as it had came. He flings the book in the direction of the couch when he decides, ‘ _to hell with it_ ’ and drinks the everything in the carafe.

It’s strong and dark and rich, but it isn’t _enough_.

He finds himself in front of the fridge before he’d told himself to go there, bruised nails and twitching hand hovering by the unremarkable, generic handle. He really shouldn’t. But he really wants to. He really needs to.

He flings the door open but catches it with his foot before it can slam into the wall, starting to paw through the minimal contents. Milk, eggs, fruits, salad dressing; all of it is like dietary dirt. He finds what he’s looking for at the back of the fridge, wrapped in a plastic bag that Hide had taken the liberty of reminding himself “DO NOT EAT!” with in Sharpie.

He drags it out with a stiff tug, hurtling over his usual sense of self-consciousness as he opens the bag, sticks his face in, and inhales as deeply as someone with barely-functioning lungs can.

Then he slings the bag back into the fridge, extreme disappointment clogging his throat.

It was what he was looking for, definitely, but where was the blood? The fading heat? The writhing sinews and muscles dying as he laughed on; as he caused it with his teeth?

Wait, wait, no. No no no no no no _no_. That’s not what he wants.

He wants to disregard fine dining for a personal drug, substance instead of sustenance. What he wants doesn’t help his body grow; it helps his mind die. And it’s not here-- why the hell _would_ it be here?

Kaneki slowly shuts the fridge with the enthusiasm of a funeral director. He pops a digit in his finger, contemplating for a moment over whether or not he’s going to do this.

He barely mulls it over before he does it.

His pinkie gives exaggerated jolts (apparently his nerves are still clinging onto life) as he bites down, his teeth scraping the bone, iron seeping across his tongue. It only gives half the satisfaction he’s itching to absorb, but what else did he expect? The pain in in his torso, the ache-- they fizzle into embers, and Kaneki nearly groans in relief.

Someone in the apartment coughs. Kaneki’s head whips in the direction of Hide’s room, finger still trembling between his teeth. A car’s engine revs. Somewhere below, a woman laughs.

And then Kaneki realizes how ridiculous he must look, like a deer caught in the headlights. Reluctantly, he pries his finger from his mouth, giving a final suck on the wound before wiping it on his black jacket. Blood and saliva smear distastefully across it-- whatever, he can zap it clean once the bite itself healed over.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” he muses to himself. Addiction has always had a talent in turning him into an insecure slob.

His ears perk as he continues to try to listen to Hide. The new, absolute silence that follows the cough is suspicious. He’s not even sure he can hear any slow breaths to indicate that his partner is still asleep, his surroundings too muddled with outside sounds.

A voice in the back of his head laughs as he lurks down the hall, mumbling something about the hilarity behind his paranoia controlling him all while he tries not to make others paranoid (is that actually amusing? Really?). But he’s not very keen on making his partner distrust him more… Even if a considerable amount of the reasons behind that feeling are valid.

Hide always refers to Kaneki as the ‘wild card’ of their duo, but it’s only taken a week to figure out that Hide is far more unpredictable.

Where Kaneki’s dangerous tendencies have become rather infamous (he wishes Hide had never shoved those history books in his direction), the only certainty behind Hide is that there are no certainties.

He’s a generally friendly guy with a grin that usually says more than his eyes, according to most people. But Kaneki’s been around him long enough to see the knowing stares when others aren’t looking. Hide likes to pretend he’s not paying attention, or that he’s not above forgoing work for gossip. When he’s alone though (or technically, alone with Kaneki), his concentration is unbreakable; he’ll write page after page of what he’s observed, offer strategic advice to investigators running cases _he’s not even involved in_.

One time while they were lounging in front of the TV, Kaneki remembers asking Hide if being an investigator was his dream job. Hide had shaken his head rapidly, excitably sharing his fantasy of becoming the lead singer in an American boy band-- or at least the bassist; he didn’t want to seem _too_ high and mighty.

A few days later in a casual workplace conversation, Hide had loudly ranted over how he _never_ wanted to be a celebrity; their lifestyles were too cushy!

If a supervisor wanted Kaneki to write an honest, straightforward summary of Hide, Kaneki would have to leave the sheet blank.

Kaneki drags his uninjured hand against the drywall as he strolls, only letting the tips of his fingers stay solid. Texture is one of the few luxuries of being back on Earth. The other gods don’t seem to mind the nothingness and lack of tangibility in the Realm, but it bothers Kaneki like a chunk ripped out of his leg. Maybe his humanity is to blame.

Kaneki knows not to try the knob, opting to slide through the plain white door and into the room. He almost has to wrestle down dissatisfaction over Hide still being asleep-- then he asks himself what he’d do if Hide were actually awake, and the feeling subsides. His partner is sprawled across his bed, sheets scattered and untied hair sticking to his cheek. The left side of his face peers from behind an arm, his newly-formed black eye on proud display.

Kaneki doesn’t come in here often. He tries to respect the gesture behind Hide locking his door despite them both knowing how futile it is. When he does find himself sneaking in though… It’s honestly disconcerting.  

The room is terrifyingly bland. White walls, gray bed sheets, a small closet, and a homely wooden nightstand supporting a plain lamp. There’s no personality in the arrangements (as if there was much to arrange in the first place), and there’s certainly no history. Framed pictures have apparently been banished from the apartment. There was a point where he wondered if in his absence the world had deemed framed pictures unimportant. But a few glimpses into coworkers’ offices had proven him wrong. So why doesn’t Hide have any? It’s almost like he doesn’t have a family, or a past. A scroll through his photo history on his phone had proven itself to be just as fruitless, ending with Kaneki staring blankly at a selfie of his partner pulling a cross-eyed duck face at his phone’s camera. The date it was taken? Six months ago.

The guy surely didn’t start existing at age twenty-five. So where’s the rest of him?

A part of Kaneki wants to start screaming during their late-night outings, ‘ _Where’s your family?! Who exactly_ are _you?!_ ’ But if he did that, he’d be expected to answer the very same questions.

It leaves him at a frustrating stalemate.

Amon was easier to wrap his head around. The man played by the rules like they were a workplace bible. Gods weren’t _gods_ ; they weren’t flawless entities governing the world with fair hands. They were people of a different composition-- a crooked composition, at that. The thought was unusual compared to the rest of the crowd’s. It also got him killed.

Hide’s doing an alarmingly good job at being stanceless. It means that he’s also doing an alarmingly good job at making himself indecipherable. Kaneki hasn’t forgotten their side deal, the one he’d made when he was still smarting from Amon’s astoundingly blind trust, from his own incompetency twenty years into the future. He’s been edging around, looking for weaknesses… Praying he doesn’t find them.

He hasn’t tried anything because he’s partially convinced that if he devoured Hide, the man would find a way to scramble him up from the inside. Metaphorically, of course. It still sounds painful.

He turns on his heel and phases through the door, finding himself tired to the point that if he could sleep, he would. The couch beckons to him like a siren, and he smothers his face in the cushions deeply enough that his lungs start seizing after a few minutes. He moves his head to let some humid air trickle down his trachea. He doesn’t need it, but he hates when his lungs act like they do.

He can feel his chalky hair sticking to his forehead. Slightly irritated, he raises a hand to sweep his bangs to the side. Except he can’t feel when his fingers perform the action. He holds his hand in front of his face, tries to command them to bend and straighten. They give a few weak twitches, feeling like they’ve been stifled in a stiff glove.

Of course the nerves in his hands would die while he wasn’t paying attention.

Aggravated, he burrows his face back into the cushions. Whatever. They’d be back and fully functional in less than half an hour.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning when he trails Hide into the CCG’s headquarters, the new investigators are all unsettled, paperwork rapidly being exchanged, voices fluctuating excitedly and then lowering in fear.

“--Severely injured the last group--” a woman exclaims to her surly partner as she scurries by.

“--Reassigning the case--” comes another comment between unaccompanied human investigators.

Kaneki pretends he doesn’t notice the way Hide’s head tilts to snag a few more of those words; it’s such a subtle movement that he honestly shouldn’t have caught it in the first place. They’re both interrupted by a higher-up clearing her throat, ushering them away to a different room.

That’s how they find themselves sitting rigidly next to another set of partners, all of them watching Mado propped behind her desk with wide eyes.

“You’re giving us the case?” Hide asks with a voice that barely hides his disbelief.

“Yes,” Mado curtly answers. “The last group’s investigator suffered a critical injury, and her partner is stuck in the Realm until her condition stabilizes.” Her features are blank and stiff; whatever emotions she’s feeling are firmly kicked out of sight.

“That’s awful,” the woman adjacent to Hide breathes, her eyebrows vanishing into her hazelnut bangs. Mado, still blank, hums in agreement.

“It’s extremely unfortunate. We grew too confident in our rookie assignments and gave them a tougher case before we knew their abilities.” There’s a moment of confused silence.

“Did you forget that we’re rookies too?” the goddess behind the woman finally grouses, her purple-hued hair covering a fraction of her bewildered stare. Kaneki can see the way Mado physically restrains herself from giving an exaggerated sigh, apparently exhausted from this conversation.

“No, but you’ve all proven yourselves to be capable in the field. None of our executives believe this case necessarily calls for investigators of a higher rank-- that’s a waste of resources. We think you’ll suit the atmosphere well enough, considering you’ve all had the opportunity to adjust to the environment that comes along with dealing with gangs.”

Between the four of them, Kaneki is positive they have a thousand and one worries lined up. None of them can summon the courage to voice them to the older woman studying them with squared shoulders. They all want the case, just not the risk associated with it.

They exchange handshakes instead.

“Copies of the case file should be sitting on each of your desks. Good luck,” Mado says in her usual brief manner, leading them all out of her office with just enough pomp that Kaneki knows she’s itching to be alone.

He finally meets her eyes as she moves to close the door; her gaze is hardened and weary. When she realizes who she’s looking at, she pushes the door shut with twice as much frantic energy. It thuds closed with a hateful echo. Kaneki finally moves to follow the others down the hall.

He spends the remainder of the day wondering if Mado assigned this case so that Hide and the others can thrive, or if she did it simply because she wants Kaneki to suffer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, 'why another bridge chapter???' the good news is that things are going to pick up the pace from here! the last few chapters help give a gist of this universe and hide and kaneki's job, and now we can sneak in some more plot. ;^0
> 
> moving on, haha wow. diddly darn DAMN there was a lot of hint dropping here. i've been shaking my fist at this chapter for a while, but yesterday i finally found the motivation and wrote everything out!! (this also serves as a subtle disclaimer for any major typos, haha. i wrote this very quickly and i am annoyingly sleep deprived. sorry.) fun fact: i considered titling this chapter 'the very hungry kaneki'... but that'd be shitposting. and as much as i love shitposting, i gotta show some RESTRAINT.
> 
> i'm not sure if i'm going to make this into a thing™ or not, but i do have a song paired with this chapter! it's "try to change" by mother mother, if anyone's interested (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dk0sUiiMwMc)!
> 
> i know i've been doing an awful job of showing my appreciation, but thank you all so much for the kudos and comments!! all your positivity is honestly so kind, and you guys have no idea how much it means to me!
> 
> and finally (as always), thanks so much for reading! :^D


	5. Chapter 5

All it takes are three coworkers’ amused looks at his hair and _boom_ , his unbleached roots are booted off the island.

He leans over the bathroom counter on a Saturday evening, tongue poked out of his mouth as he carefully parts his strands into sections. The concentrated peroxide powder sits in plastic bowl on the edge of the counter. The bleach is right next to it, uncapped and ready to be mixed.

Humming the tune of some Western song he constantly listened to in high school (the Backstreet Boys are always in season, shut up), he clamps a clip onto his bangs. A glance in the mirror confirms that he looks just as dumb as he feels.

“Gotta get this done quickly,” he mumbles, already dying to free his hair from their flimsy metal captors. The gloves fit horribly, too long in the fingers and too tight on the wrists, but he works around it. He pours in a safe ratio, mixing the powder and diluted bleach with an applicator before rushing to start the process. The quicker he puts in the mixture, the more effective it’ll be. And with hair as dark as his? He needs all the benefits he can get.

There’s a knock on the door when he’s about a fourth of the way through his work; it startles him enough that as the applicator falls from his hands, it gives his skull a painful smack on the way down.

“Ff--”

“Can I come in?” Kaneki’s voice comes floats from under the door.

“Uh,” Hide tries to collect his thoughts as he scrambles to pick up the applicator, giving it a brief rinse before drying it with a hand towel and going back to work. “Why?” he finally asks. Then he winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he really doesn’t understand.

“I’m just… Curious.” The god’s voice is surprisingly meek.

“Curious?” Hide echoes as he continues to face the mirror, moving to a side section of his hair.

“I started smelling bleach about half an hour ago; I thought you were just doing some cleaning. But it doesn’t sound like you’re scrubbing anything…” Oh right. The hypersensitive smelling and hearing. Hide hopes his humming from earlier wasn’t too off-key; that’d be embarrassing.

“You want to come in and watch me mess around with bleach, man?” Hide snorts; he’s shouldering past the weirdness of the conversation pretty easily now that he’s figured out why Kaneki’s asking. The poor guy must be really bored, if this is what he decided to invest his attention on.

“Um.” Aw, he’s too shy to admit it.

“Come on in,” Hide finally calls, putting the god out of his own misery.

Nothing happens.

“...Are you going to unlock the door?” Kaneki quietly interrupts the awkward pause. And then the conversation goes back from amusing to straight up surreal.

“Mmmm,” Hide tilts his head as he thinks of a way to defuse what could result in an agonizingly long spluttering fest; no one likes having the rug pulled out from under them… But really? “My hands are a little full, ‘Neki. We both know that there’s no such thing as a _real_ door in your case though, so, uh, just head on in!”

He catches the half-second of mortification on Kaneki’s face as he passes through the door, but he’s not judging. Hide has forgotten his own name on a few occasions-- is that really that different from forgetting you’re a god?

Okay, maybe it is. But he’s not judging.

“Welp, my secret’s out,” he sighs dramatically as Kaneki settles against the wall. “Who would have ever guessed that I wasn’t a natural blond?” Kaneki’s lips twitch into an uncertain smile.

“Everyone already knew your secret.” He crosses his arms.

Hide shouldn’t have ever brought the word ‘secret’ to the table; he bites his own tongue to stop the waterfall of ‘ _What proof do you have?_ ’s and ‘ _Please don’t tell anyone_ ’s from gushing out; replacing those words with “What? How!?”

“Your eyebrows.”

He’d slap a hand over his face if it wasn’t currently covered in bleach and chemicals.

“You got me,” he huffs instead. He abandons the current strands he’s holding for another section, noting with triumph that this is the last one he has to deal with.

“Why do you bleach it, anyways?” Kaneki asks, absent-mindedly sweeping his own white hair to the side. The gesture seems almost too nonchalant to be real.

“Oh, y’know,” Hide responds. He knows that Kaneki doesn’t know. Kaneki twirls his wrist, gesturing Hide onwards.

“Blond goes best with my complexion, alright?” he finally answers, intentionally turning his words into a whine with the hopes that Kaneki would drop it. Kaneki lets out his version of a laugh-- a small wheeze.

“Really? Nagachika Hideyoshi, being _vain_?”

“Hey! ‘Vain’ is a strong word! Let’s go with ‘mindful of my appearance!’” Hide’s not technically lying; nope! He really _does_ care about what he looks like. With good reason, too.

“Fine, fine, whatever makes you feel better,” Kaneki agrees. He’s been enjoying the liberty of wandering the apartment without his eyepatch. The way his eyes scrunch and his posture loosens as he talks, Hide can almost pretend that Kaneki’s just some baby-faced university freshman that wandered his way into his home. Almost.

“Ever tried doing anything with your hair, Kaneki?” Hide chirps, triumphantly throwing the applicator into the bowl, and spinning to face Kaneki directly. His scalp itches from the strong mixture, but he opts to wait a little longer, hoping the pigment will fade as much as possible.

“No, not by choice,” Kaneki shrugs. He gives a lock of his hair a self-conscious tug. “It’s tough imagining myself with any color other than white, now.”

“I thought you looked good with black hair,” Hide contributes. Kaneki instantly reddens.

“Y-You remember that?” he stutters, somewhat mortified.

“I was only around five at the time, but I remember thinking that black suited you when I watched the news,” Hide lopes over to the shower. He may be fully clothed, but he’s not going to take his shirt off with company around, nah.

“What kind of news were you watching as a five year old?” Kaneki seems horrified. Hide doesn’t blame him; the cases the god was sent on with Amon rarely ended well... At least not for Kaneki.

“My dad was pretty invested in seeing what the world was capable of with magic,” Hide explains mildly. Father’s _still_ invested. He’s been poking the boundaries since Hide was born-- before Hide was born, even. “He liked watching live reports of all the new god-human partnerships fighting in cases! He always used to pull me aside to rant about how the _future is now_ , blah, blah... I didn’t really listen to it.” Hide flicks on the shower, waiting for the stream of water to level out at a cool temperature.

“Huh.”

“Huh,” Hide nods along. He braces himself.

“I do kind of miss my black hair,” Kaneki goes back to the old subject with a thoughtful tone, utterly unfazed as Hide unceremoniously crams his head under the jet of water, scrubbing his scalp with vigor. Water sneaks into his nose but he refuses to hold back, eventually moving to shampoo the slopping mess that is his hair.

“Maybe it’ll grow back?” Hide suggests, hand patting the wall until it finds the towel rack.

“Maybe,” the god replies wistfully. They both know it probably won’t.

Water flies everywhere as Hide whips his hair over his head, quickly bundling it in the towel he grabbed. A glance at Kaneki shows him the god’s disgruntled, semi-transparent face. Apparently he hadn’t had time to properly dodge.

“...Sorry.”

Hide awkwardly whistles as he finishes squeezing the water from his hair, eventually twisting the towel so it’s piled on his head.

“That’s a nice look on you,” Kaneki teases from the side, apparently over the close call from earlier. Hide pretends to sweep his hand through his fake hairstyle for a moment, shooting a sultry stare at the god.

“What can I say? I only accept the highest of fashion.” He strikes a half-assed pose, nerves flaring as his feet squeak against the tiling for a second. Then the wet fabric of his shirt collar can clearly be felt clinging to his skin, and the moment is ruined. Kaneki’s still smiling as Hide pries the nuisance away so it’s not making direct contact with his unfortunate neck.

“I should probably dress out,” he finally comments.

“Maybe the gang will see you and die of laughter. It’d save us a lot of work,” Kaneki snorts.

“Always so supportive, Kaneki.” Hide waves him off, trudging over to open the bathroom door.

“I mean, I never agreed to being your emotional support system, or anything.”

“I can’t imagine you in a cheerleading outfit holding a ‘GO NAGACHIKA!’ poster anyways,” Hide drawls before finally leaving.

He shuffles back in less than thirty seconds later. Kaneki looks surprisingly vacant as Hide beelines to the counter, hands picking through cabinets until he finds what he wants.

“I think I ate something bad yesterday,” Hide explains before straightening up and giving the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers a triumphant shake. “My stomach’s been killing me!” He downs two pills as Kaneki shifts uncomfortably by the wall.

“Don’t forget to be ready in an hour!” he calls before making his second exit. There’s no rhyme or reason behind why the last emotion he sees flitting across his partner’s face is guilt, of all things.

 

* * *

 

 

They find themselves in a cleaner part of the ward; the kind where the residents don’t know how to be hungry, and wandering the streets doesn’t get boots dirty.

“I wonder how anyone managed to start a gang here,” the investigator with hazelnut hair, Kosaka, wonders out loud. Her gait is bouncy and unweighted, but he sees how tightly her fingers clench around the handle of her briefcase.  

“Maybe it’s a bunch of rich kids that want to seem tough?” Hide humors her. His eyes catch on an old, familiar street sign and his heart is in his throat for all the wrong reasons. It’s been there since he saw the address on the report he was handed when he arrived at the office.

“They’d probably have enough cash to afford legitimate advice for a summoning,” the goddess, Kirishima, jumps in. “And they’re probably stupid enough to fucking try.” There’s a mutual hum of agreement in the group.

Kosaka enthusiastically points a finger to the right as they reach a branching road. Without a comment, they all make the turn. The array of buildings slide by as they trudge to the exact area, and when they spot a particularly tall apartment complex a block away, their postures stiffen.

“...I’m going invisible, now,” Kaneki mutters. His appearance doesn’t change, but Kosaka’s confused blinking tells Hide that it was effective. Touka shimmers out of sight a moment later. Both humans share a nod before resuming their pace.

The silence between the group makes Hide feel like fidgeting more than he should. He thumbs the latch of his case, pats a hand through his hair to make sure it’s properly pulled back, and eyes up the laces of his boots before caving in to his nerves.

“What do you think happened to our coworkers that was bad enough to put them out of commission?” He addresses it to the whole group, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. It’s a rude question, honestly. But he can be a rude guy, sometimes. Kaneki is probably staring at him with a scandalized expression.

“Well…” Kosaka starts. “Maybe they weren’t well-suited to the job? It’s not like the executives sent anyone bigger and badder to uh. Deal with the situation.” Her sentences are chopped as she tries to subtly censor the subject. She’s being smart, trying not to blow their cover. The streets are rather empty considering the time, but people’s attentive ears tend to be the death of the CCG’s operations.

“Don’t you think that’s a little discrediting to them, though?” Hide gives a curious shrug, trying to lighten the doubt in his words. “We all took the same course and passed, and I’m sure they’re just as capable.”

“They could’ve been caught off guard,” Kaneki contributes from his left side. Hide nods along before realizing Kosaka’s shooting him a confused stare.

“Uh. My friend says they could’ve been caught off guard.” Kosaka tilts her head as she considers the suggestion. Then her eyes slide to the right before she chirps out a “maybe!” It’s Hide’s turn to raise a brow.

“My friend thinks the gang might’ve been better in some field that our coworkers weren’t. Like, maybe the gang specializes in hand-to-hand combat, and our guys preferred using weapons?” Kosaka seems mildly discomforted by the possibility. To his side, Hide sees Kaneki’s gaze trained to the unblemished pavement. The mood seems to darken as they consider their possibly exploitable weak spots, and Hide’s already scrambling to patch things up.

“If the gang likes hand-to-hand then there’s nothing to worry about guys, I’m the best when it comes to hand-to-hand combat!” Hide jokingly boasts. He nearly loses his footing in surprise when Kirishima reappears from thin air before scoffing.

“Really now, Nagachika. If you’re the best, then where’d your black eye come from?” Hide offers her a weak smile, shoulders hunching in embarrassment.

“...You can’t dodge ‘em all?” he answers sheepishly. He totally deserves the bark of laughter the goddess lets out before vanishing again.

  

* * *

  

The apartment complex is a hulking giant, bland from its bottom to its top. Hide can be the judge of this, considering he and Kosaka have spent the past ten minutes hiking to the highest floor. Kaneki’s feet drifted from the ground after the fifth floor, and Hide internally cursed the god for being so lucky as he floated his way up the next ten flights. When they come to a stop in front of a flimsy wooden door a few paces from the end of the walkway, he and Kosaka have gone rather quiet.

“This is the right place?” he murmurs to her. She seems to shudder for a moment before giving a tight nod.

“Remember our plan,” she mutters back. Her free hand slides beneath her black trench coat. When she draws out a pistol from her waistband, her mouth has set itself in a stubborn pout.

“Ready when you are.”

Hide slides his own pistol out from the thigh holster under his trench coat. He opens his mouth to send them on their way but a solidified hand is slapping over it.

“Stop for a second, Hide,” Kaneki growls. Hide quickly shoves his own palm forward to stop Kosaka from doing anything else, already turning to face his partner.

“What is it?” he asks. The god is back on the ground, feet spread into a firm, tense stance as he stares at the door. The mask suddenly flickers onto his face, but Hide catches the nervous stare in Kaneki’s human eye before it’s completely hidden.

“Ask Kirishima if she smells it.”

Hide turns back to Kosaka with wide eyes, already moving to switch the gun to his holster and the case in his left hand.

“Does Kirishima smell any ozone?” Now Kosaka is looking twitchy as she repeats Hide’s earlier switch, listening to the goddess before answering.

“She smells it.”

Hide drags his right hand across his face, feeling the worry in his insides fizzle angrily. “Things just got complicated,” he sighs to the others. The case in his hand is starting to feel less like security, and more like a gamble, but he holds it closer anyways.

Kosaka looks just as worried as she steps forward. “I guess this’ll be just like peeling off a band aid! The quicker we deal with it, the less it can hurt us.” Hide wishes he were that brave.

“Alright then,” he paces to the door. “On three, we start.”

Kosaka leans into a sprint-ready position. “One!”

Kaneki’s kagune lashes out from his back. “Two!”

The air where Kirishima is standing starts to warp. “Three!” 

Hide shoves the heel of his boot by the spot next to the door’s lock. The wood splinters and the door flies into the apartment’s hallway. Kosaka is slipping through the opening at full speed, the rising and falling of the hairs on his arm telling Hide that Kirishima is heading inside too.

He and Kaneki wait another heavy second before barreling in as well. Kaneki’s flash from between the zipper's opening in his mask as he flings his momentum forward, hurtling through the entryway and into the frenzy before Hide is all the way through the door.

  
Whatever Hide was expecting in the center of the room, it wasn’t this.

...Father was right. The future  _is_ now. 

 

And as Hide locks his gaze onto the limp, broken bodies of two summoners trapped in a pile of black, pulsing sludge, he has to admit that it's absolutely hideous.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes... it's always fun leaving things off on a wtf note....
> 
> this chapter was originally meant to be a little longer, but it was getting lengthy enough that i decided to cut it down into smaller portions! 
> 
> my ap tests are out of the way now, so i found time to wrap up this chapter, woohoo! ...except my summer job is starting up, so my writing time is probably chopped down a considerable amount, not-so-woohoo! 
> 
> anways, this is kind of the kick off of our main plot, though i understand that all in all, this chapter was pretty uneventful. but ohohoh. the next one. that'll be a fun one. honestly, i just wanted to throw some more content onto here before getting super inconsistent, so i'm sorry if this isn't really the something you guys were looking for! it'll happen! i swear! 
> 
> sorry for any errors or super weird parts (as always i typed stuff up super quickly and i'm a lil sleep-deprived), and thank you so much for taking the time to read this!


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